Sublime

Remember The New Yorker . You subscribed because you liked it. Then it taunted you with its endless words, pages and pages demanding to be read. It reminded you of all the time you didn’t have to spend reading The New Yorker . Whenever you glimpsed the growing pile, you felt mild panic. Every time you recycled an unread issue, you felt like a... See more

What do all these things have in common? for my new @NewYorker essay, I grappled with the burgeoning Gen Z and younger aesthetic of tacky, oozy, ugly, chemically augmented, brainrotted consumer slop — the Labubu Dubai chocolate matcha industrial complex https://t.co/468Mu2RR3Q

The hipster was an information-sorting algorithm: its job was to always have good taste . The hipster listened to bands you’d never heard of. The hipster drank beers brewed by Paraguayan Jesuits in the 1750s. The hipster thought Tarkovsky was for posers, and the only truly great late-Soviet filmmaker was Ali Khamraev. The hipster bought all his... See more